The Dance Marathon, Take Two
by kimlockt
Summary: Literati. Written after the Dance Marathon to show Rory breaking up with Dean (not the other way around.) This is my first fic and Dean is OOC - you've been warned. Story is completed.
1. The Setting

A/N: Hey everyone. This is my first fan fiction. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it but.I wanted to rewrite pieces of the dance marathon episode (They Shoot Gilmores, Don't They?) I adore Rory but was sooooooo disappointed in her when she didn't break up with Dean. I feel like she wimped out and made Dean do the dirty work for her because she was too scared and worried about everyone else's opinion to do it herself. I don't see Rory as a weakling and wanted to rewrite the episode showing a Rory that makes a decision based on what she knows in her heart is the right thing to do. I also want to show a Rory that actually has a backbone and can do the right thing, even when it's hard.  
  
I plan to use the basic plot of the dance marathon episode but have Rory get honest with everyone who needs and deserves her honesty (and if you're keeping score, that is principally Dean, Jess, and most importantly, herself.) Make sense? I hope so. FYI.the song quoted is "Lungs" by Townes Van Zandt.  
  
  
  
Well, won't you lend your lungs to me?  
  
Mine are collapsing  
  
Plant my feet and bitterly breathe  
  
up the time that's passing.  
  
Breath I'll take and breath I'll give  
  
pray the day ain't poison  
  
stand among the ones that live  
  
in lonely indecision.  
  
Rory stood in the gymnasium at Stars Hollow High and tried to gain control of her racing heart. Her breath had become ragged and her eyes were stinging as tears pooled on her lower eyelids, partially blurring her vision. She tried to breathe deeply to alleviate the constricted feeling she had in her chest. It was as if her lungs had stopped functioning. She could inhale smooth enough, but her exhale was a problem, coming out in staccato chopping the air. Lungs burning, cursing silently, she fought desperately for control as the tears she so greatly feared threatened to spill. 'Not now,' her head screamed at her heart. 'Don't do this now.'  
  
"You want a soda?" Dean asked, walking up behind her stopping short at her elbow.  
  
"No." Rory answered sharply. "..but thanks," she said as an afterthought, remembering her manners. Needing space and wanting to hide her shaking hands from Dean, she said "I'm going to run to the ladies room before I have to start dancing again."  
  
"OK. Want me to hold your sandwich for you?"  
  
Looking down, Rory realized she was still holding the sandwich that had been oh-so-important just two minutes earlier. 'Oh yeah', she thought, 'This is fight-worthy. I'm so glad I morphed into the food police over this stupid egg-free egg salad sandwich.' Sighing, she realized that in her tension, she had squeezed the lower right corner of the sandwich completely flat. Her stomach lurched as a dull pain shot through her lungs again.  
  
Handing the sandwich to Dean, she said "I don't think I'm that hungry after all. If you want it, it's yours."  
  
Dean, taking the sandwich and noticing its squished contents oozing out between the slices of bread said "Yummy," and smiled at her reassuringly.  
  
Without meeting his eyes or returning his smile, Rory did what she did best. She turned and fled.  
  
Arriving in the bathroom, Rory locked herself in a stall and pressed her cheek flush against the cool metal of the stall wall. Shutting her eyes, she saw him clearly. Jess. Squeezing her eyes more tightly shut, she winced at the fresh course of pain ripping through her body. It wasn't a nice memory. Jess's words and the disdain on his face were what had squeezed the air out of her lungs in the first place. 'I was so awful to him' she thought, 'he must hate me.' Because it was impossible to shut it out, Rory gave into the memory completely.  
  
Flashback  
  
Jess had been standing in the break room holding a sandwich. Rory, angry and hurt having watched him purposely make out with Shane right in front of her, confronted him.  
  
"Those Sandwiches are for the dancers," Rory said.  
  
"I'm dancing on the inside." Jess retorted.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Rory snapped at him.  
  
"I live here." Jess informed her sarcastically.  
  
"You have nothing better to do than sit around all day in a gymnasium staring at a dance marathon?"  
  
"I don't know." Jess responded. Looking at Dean who has just walked up next to Rory, he said "Do you have nothing better to do than sit around all day in a gymnasium staring at a dance marathon?"  
  
"I wouldn't direct any sort of comment to me if I were you." Dean warned.  
  
"I'm just trying to support my town." Jess replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.  
  
"Good," Rory replied angrily, "then go back to New York."  
  
"Zing." Jess spit out. "I've been snapped."  
  
"You think you're bugging me, sitting in front of me staring like that?" Rory said, raising her voice.  
  
"You think you're bugging me, dancing in front of me staring like that?" Jess shot back at her.  
  
"I am not staring at you."  
  
"Then how do you know I'm staring at you?" Jess smirked, knowing he'd caught her in a lie.  
  
"I am dancing." Rory condescendingly explained to him. "I cannot control where my glance goes. The few moments I can control it, my glance goes to Dean."  
  
"You can't control when you look at me but you have to force yourself to look at him?" Jess translated for her. Turning to Dean he said "Sorry man, that's cold."  
  
"My former comment still stands." Dean stated flatly, not wishing to engage in the verbal sparring match occurring between Jess and his girlfriend.  
  
"Go home." Rory ordered Jess.  
  
"No thanks." Jess retorted.  
  
"Then get out of my way."  
  
"Didn't realize I was in your way." Jess smirked stepping away from Lane's tower of egg-less egg salad sandwiches. "There you go. It's all yours. God help you."  
  
Shane entered the break room and addressed Jess "Where did you go? I've been sitting out there for, like, 20 minutes."  
  
"Break's only ten." Jess stated humorlessly.  
  
"It's just a saying." Shane whined.  
  
"I came to get food." Jess answered her.  
  
"Good," Shane said, "I'm starving."  
  
Rory addressed Shane angrily "The sandwiches are for the dancers."  
  
"Who are you? Bobby Brady?" Shane said rolling her eyes. "Get a life."  
  
"Rory's feeling a little territorial today." Jess explained to Shane.  
  
"Whatever." Shane sighed. Looking at sandwich she asked, "God, what is this thing?"  
  
Jess stared at Rory and put his arm around Shane's shoulder. Rory stared back at Jess and wrapped her arm around Dean's waist.  
  
Dean, wriggling free from Rory embrace, said "Rory, get your stuff and let's go."  
  
Laughing Jess responded, "That was good. Now say 'and get in there and make me my supper.'"  
  
Rory moved around Jess to pick up a sandwich. "I got it."  
  
"C'mon," Dean told Rory, walking away from Jess and Shane.  
  
"See ya in there," Jess called after them.  
  
End Flashback  
  
Rory did not see Jess remove his arm from Shane's shoulder the second Rory walked away or the look of pain that flashed in his eyes as he in turn, walked away from Shane.  
  
Fingers walk the darkness down  
  
mind is on the midnight  
  
gather up the gold you've found  
  
you fool, it's only moonlight.  
  
If you try to take it home  
  
your hands will turn to butter  
  
You better leave this dream alone  
  
try to find another.  
  
  
  
Rory exited the bathroom stall. Although her lungs didn't burn anymore, she didn't feel much better. She strode over to the sink to wash her hands and, reaching for a paper towel, caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Rory froze as she stared at herself. Her eyes tried futilely to focus but the effort was wasted. Rory didn't recognize herself. 'Who is that person in the mirror? Is that me?' she wondered. 'I look so different, so. sad.' As Rory searched the mirror as if it held clues or the answers to her questions, she became aware of an internal dialog rising within her.  
  
Her head said 'Of course you look different. That dress is straight out of 1943. Like you'd wear that normally!'  
  
'Umm.no.' her heart said. 'Try again.'  
  
'Your hair is piled high. It's too formal and old fashioned. If your hair were down or in a headband, you'd look just like yourself. No worries,' her head tried to convince her.  
  
'Bzzt. Wrong answer yet again!' Rory's heart resonated. 'Dig a little deeper,' it softly urged.  
  
'It's the make-up,' her head protested loudly, becoming more desperate for the control to which it had long grown accustomed. 'You never wear that stuff. Red lipstick is so 1997. Wipe it off, put some lip gloss on and you'll look fine.'  
  
Rory's breathing had become shallow again. She knitted her eyebrows together and leaned closer to the mirror, trying to focus. The internal dialog was intense and confusing.  
  
The voice of her heart was barely audible. Rory had to strain to hear it over the loud clamor of her head. Yet, her heart sounded so gentle, so hopeful, so right. 'Rory,' her heart whispered, 'you're lost. Come home to me.'  
  
"I don't know the way anymore" Rory admitted, eyes tearing.  
  
'Yes,' her heart assured her, 'you do know the way. The path may be overgrown from lack of use but it's still there for you to follow. What do you want, Rory? Here in your heart, what do you want?'  
  
A single tear trickled down her cheek. "I.. I.." Rory stammered.  
  
'I know you're scared,' her heart continued warmly, 'but I can help you find your way back home. You've listened to everyone else but me, and where has that gotten you? You're standing in a bathroom, drowning and desperate. If you'll just trust me, Rory, I know I can save you.'  
  
"What should I do?" Rory asked sniffing.  
  
Her heart smiled warmly, 'Ah, I've been waiting for you to ask me that!'  
  
Rory's eyes returned their search in the mirror. She was shocked to look up and see herself looking back. Herself. Her. Rory. She smiled tentatively. It looked good. The smile grew and she began to laugh. Wiping the residual tears off her cheeks, Rory tossed the used paper towel in the garbage can. After one last deep cleansing breath, she squared her shoulders and exited the bathroom.  
  
She knew what she had to do.  
  
A/N. Cruel place to end, I know but this chapter was getting too long. I have chapter 2 all planned - I just have to write it. I'd appreciate any feedback that anyone wants to leave. Thanks! 


	2. The Breakup

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gilmore Girls. I forgot to say that in Chapter 1. I bet you thought I owned the Gilmore Girls, didn't you?  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Special shout outs to Someone and Angel Monroe! You both so completely rock and inspire me with your talent!  
  
I'll be using dialog again from the "They Shoot Gilmores, Don't They?" episode. This is my version where Rory has a backbone. I thought about working Dean's alien abduction into the story (heh heh) but I'll save that plot line for another time. I'm also upping the rating to PG-13 as there's some cussing and errr . . . . .sexual innuendos in this chapter.  
  
One more thing. . . . . let me just say that I am a complete dork and after trying to turn off the filter that denies anonymous reviews, it's still freaking on. Either ff.net is buggy (not completely implausible) or I am doing something wrong (also not completely implausible.) I'd love to get any reviews, even anonymous ones.we'll see if it's fixed for this installment.  
  
  
  
There wasn't a lot of bullshit in my heaven. - Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones  
  
  
  
Rory emerged from the bathroom determined to find Dean. As she was searching the gymnasium for him, Jackson rushed past Rory, slightly bumping into her shoulder.  
  
"So, I'm sure you have an opinion about this too. If not four in four, would three in three work better for you? Just let me know at the next town meeting because I'm sure it will be an agenda item open to discussion to everyone in Stars Hollow. Maybe we'll even hold a special referendum so we people can actually vote on it." Jackson angrily said to a very confused Rory.  
  
Huffing, Jackson made his exit as Sookie caught up with Rory. "Are you OK honey?" Sookie asked her. "It looked like he clipped you."  
  
"Am I supposed to understand what he was talking about?" Rory asked her knitting her eyebrows together and starting at Jackson's departing back.  
  
"Nope. It's Jackson." Sookie replied kissing Rory's forehead before rushing after Jackson.  
  
"Good point." Rory murmured.  
  
"Rory!" Lorelei cried upon spotting her daughter. "Kirk is organizing a bunny hop. C'mon, we need to form a conga line before he gets everyone on his side."  
  
"Mom, I need to. . . . ."  
  
"I think Gloria Estefan may have been right, I actually feel the rhythm getting stronga." Lorelei continued.  
  
"There's something important I have to. . . . ."  
  
"I don't think I can control myself any longa." Lorelei rambled.  
  
At that moment, Taylor resumed bullhorn duties. His voice boomed across the gymnasium "Dancers back to the dance floor in 10, 9, 8, 9, 8. . . . ."  
  
"It's a countdown Taylor," Miss Patty informed him. "The numbers are supposed to go backwards from 10. You know, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. . . . ."  
  
"Are you trying to steal announcer duties from me?" a drunk Taylor drawled at Miss Patty. "I'm onto your scheme. I bet you're not even licensed to operate a megaphone."  
  
As Taylor and Miss Patty continued to fight, Lorelei grabbed Rory's hand "C'mon, I want to get a spot where I can keep an eye on Kirk," Lorelei said. "I bet he's taking some sort of dance steroid drug that causes his feet to keep moving while the rest of him is actually asleep."  
  
"But. . . . ." Rory started to protest before realizing that it was futile. She gave into her mother and allowed herself to be dragged back onto the dance floor.  
  
"Lorelei," Kirk greeted her stiffly.  
  
"Kirk," Lorelei replied in kind. "Still sleepwalking?"  
  
"Sleepwalking?" Kirk asked slightly taken aback by her random question. "Not since the time that I sleepwalked into the kitchen and thought it was the bathroom. It was a little embarrassing since Reverend Keating was having tea with mother that evening."  
  
"Please make him stop talking," a panicked Rory begged her mother.  
  
"But since mother installed the baby guard rails on my bunk beds and started making me wear a cowbell to sleep, it really hasn't been a problem." Kirk continued.  
  
"I'll never be able to shut my eyes again," Lorelei told Rory.  
  
"Well, you asked him." Rory reminded to her mother, raising her eyebrows mischievously.  
  
". . . . .and why did I do that?" Lorelei queried.  
  
"Because you have an unnatural obsession with winning this marathon," Rory explained.  
  
"Oh right," Lorelei smiled remembering her original agenda. "Thank you, offspring."  
  
. . . . .Several dance marathon hours later. . . . .  
  
Jess was still in the stands, reading one of his ever present books. Shane slept next to him as Dean reclined several rows behind them in the bleachers. Rory's eyes were shut and she leaned against Lorelei. Although equally tired, Lorelei essentially tried to hold Rory up, making sure that the two continued swaying to the music, if not actually dancing. Perking up slightly as Kirk waltzed by, Lorelei took a sudden, reckless step and snapped the heel off of her shoe. Jolted more awake from the sudden choppy movement, Rory stirred.  
  
"My heel just broke off," Lorelei cried panicking. "Damn, these are brand new shoes."  
  
"They were made in 1943," Rory reminded her.  
  
"Well, I just bought them Tuesday." Lorelei whined.  
  
"I told you not to wear vintage shoes," Rory reminded her again.  
  
"but the lady at the store said they hadn't been worn a lot."  
  
"Not a lot in 60 years is still probably a lot."  
  
"I gotta fix them," Lorelei said. "Oh, I'll use my emergency card to leave the dance floor. I'll be right back"  
  
"No!" cried Rory. "If you leave, there's no way I'll be able to keep standing up."  
  
"10 minutes?"  
  
"Nighty-night."  
  
"Oh no! Wait. . . . ." Lorelei turned and searched the stands. "Dean! C'mere! I need you!"  
  
Rory began to come more awake as she realized what her mother was doing. "Mom, no! I'm fine now. Really, look, dancing." Rory told her mother as she demonstrated her own version of the cabbage patch.  
  
"You're going to hurt yourself, honey," Lorelei said to Rory. ". . . . .and don't do that in public when we're together."  
  
Rory sighed and rolled her eyes as she looked over at Dean who had already walked onto the dance floor. Rory felt her lungs begin to constrict again.  
  
"What?" Dean asked Lorelei.  
  
"Here," Lorelei said taking Rory's arms and wrapping them around Dean's shoulders. "Hold her up. I'll be right back."  
  
"Mom, it's OK," Rory assured her. "Look Dean, I'm standing. Dancing even. You can go back and sit down."  
  
"Well, actually," Dean said realizing that Rory was in his arms, "This is kind of nice."  
  
Rory stole a quick glance at the stands and saw that Jess was no longer reading his book but instead looking at her intently, angrily. Rory's pulse quickened as she returned her gaze to Dean. Without thinking, she backed several inches away from him and moved her hands from his shoulders to his arms. Trying to pull her close, Dean stepped towards her. Rory immediately backed up again, loosening her grip on his arms.  
  
Dean instinctively tightened his grip on her waist and looked at her quizzically. "Rory, what's wrong?" he asked her.  
  
"Nothing," Rory mumbled automatically, stealing another glance at Jess from the corner of her eye.  
  
"Then why are you acting like I'm Pee Wee Herman?" Dean questioned.  
  
Rory sighed looking up at him. "I don't really want to get into this with you right now."  
  
"Get into what with me?" Dean pushed.  
  
"Please let it drop. This is not the time or the place to discuss it." Rory attempted to reason with him.  
  
"Not the time or place to discuss what? Why you're acting like I have leprosy?" Dean continued, not letting the issue drop.  
  
"Yes. I mean, no," Rory stumbled as she tried to organize her thoughts.  
  
"What is it you want to talk to me about Rory?" Dean demanded, squeezing his hands tighter on her waist.  
  
Feeling irritated by the increased pressure from his embrace, and exasperated from his questions, Rory relented. "This. . . . Us. . . . Everything. . . . ."  
  
Dean took a step back from her but didn't let go. "Oh my God, are you breaking up with me?" Dean looked at Rory with eyes that contained a frightening mixture of shock, pain, and anger.  
  
Rory's eyes skimmed the still crowded gym. It was too public, too exposed. "C'mon, Dean. It doesn't have to be like this. Let's go outside where we can talk without an audience," Rory tried to reason with him.  
  
"Fuck that," Dean exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Say what you have to say and say it quickly. I have a feeling that I'm not going to like it."  
  
Eyes wide, Rory inhaled sharply at his use of the swear word. "Did you just say 'fuck'?" she asked him, her mind unable to process what she had just heard.  
  
"Yeah, Rory, I did, " Dean answered sarcastically. "You have heard the word before, haven't you?"  
  
Realizing that he was trying to intimidate and bully her, Rory exhaled a long breath and met his gaze. Holding burning eye contact with Dean and tilting her head to the side, she stated flatly "Once or twice."  
  
"I'm waiting Rory," Dean continued abruptly. "What is it you want to say to me?  
  
Resigning herself to having the conversation with him right there on the dance floor, Rory began. "Things between us have been bad for awhile, Dean."  
  
"Right," Dean interrupted. "Ever since Jess came to town."  
  
"No," Rory shot back at him. "Things were bad between us long before Jess ever stepped foot off that bus."  
  
Laughing ruefully and raising his voice, Dean responded, "Cut the bullshit, Rory. Do you think I'm blind? You're into him and he's into you. I spent months trying to convince myself that it wasn't true but I must be an idiot."  
  
"Stop it," Rory commanded. "I'm not going to let you twist this. This is not about Jess and me. It's about you and me. . . . .and what's not working and hasn't been working for a long, long time."  
  
Dean opened his mouth to say something but Rory silenced him. "I'm not finished. See, I'm trying to tell you something and you're not listening to me, which is really not a surprise because this is what you do. You make assumptions about what I think, how I feel, and what I'm doing. Even though you constantly get it wrong, you completely tune me out when I try to explain to you what the truth is."  
  
"Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that Jess has nothing to do with what's happened between us?" Dean asked, his voice low and frightening.  
  
"No," Rory admitted. "I'm trying to tell you that our issues are bigger than Jess. Take him out of the equation and you and I are still too different to have survived."  
  
"Bullshit," Dean cried again. He leaned in closer to her ear and in a menacing manner stated quietly, "Don't you think for once, you should actually be honest with me? Jess flirts with you. He excites you. . . . . sexually. . . . . .and you like it. That's what this is about."  
  
Shocked into momentary silence, Rory squared her shoulders for the second time in one night. Straightening her spine, she stared at him before she continued. "What this is about," Rory hissed at Dean, "is you not wanting to lose. You've turned this into a contest between you and Jess with me as the prize. Guess what Dean. I'm not a 'thing' that you can win. In fact, I'm not a 'thing' at all. I'm a person with likes, dislikes, and dreams that I've come to understand mean nothing to you. I'm exhausted from trying to be what you want me to be. I can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore."  
  
"I'm such an idiot." Dean spat at her, shaking his head. "You said you loved me and I actually believed you."  
  
"I did love you, Dean. I still do. I'm just not in love with you. I finally understand the difference."  
  
"So you're going to be with him now, right?"  
  
Rory scoffed at Dean, "Have you not been paying attention the past couple months? Jess has a girlfriend," she gestured at Jess and Shane in the bleachers and for the first time since the argument began, noticed Jess. He was staring at her with a shell-shocked expression on his face. A momentary thought about the volume of her argument with Dean flit across her mind before she continued in a low voice, "besides, he hates me now."  
  
Dean smiled bitterly leaning closer to Rory. "Hell Rory, that's not hate," he explained. "That's passion. I thought you'd be able to tell the difference."  
  
Rory looked momentarily stricken before Dean continued. He leaned close enough to her for his lips to brush her ear. She cringed as he whispered so only she could hear, "he wants your virginity. From what I can see, he's going to get it. Guys like him, that's all they want. You're going to wind up a pregnant 16-year old whore, just like your mom. Who will want you then, Rory?"  
  
Her hand moved on it's own. Before she was even aware of what she was doing, she had slapped him across the face. Hard. Slightly stunned by her violent reaction, but too enraged to care, Rory looked up at Dean. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again," she said slowly and evenly ". . . . .and don't you EVER say anything bad about my mother."  
  
Dean moved his hand to his face, touching the stinging skin where Rory had hit him. "Oh God, Rory," he said, his face falling. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."  
  
Rory stepped back and looked at Dean. The look on her face was a mixture of pity and contempt. It was certainly not the look of a frightened child that Dean had expected to see.  
  
Rory turned on her heel and calmly walked from the gymnasium.  
  
Once she was outside and the cool air hit her lungs, she was carried forward by her adrenalin, moving faster and faster until she was running, breathing, crying.  
  
'Well, that was a scene,' her head said.  
  
"Shut up," Rory said.  
  
'How do you feel?' her heart said.  
  
"Shitty," Rory said.  
  
'Yeah, yeah,' her heart said. 'We went through this routine in the bathroom. How do you really feel?'  
  
"Pretty darn good." Rory admitted, smiling through her tears.  
  
'That's my girl,' Her heart said.  
  
  
  
A/N: Next up, Rory and Jess sitting on a bridge. Stay tuned! 


	3. The Bridge

Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls. Duh.  
  
A/N: Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. You guys are amazing motivation to keep writing. Since the creative juices were flowing, I decided to write the third, and potentially final chapter. Don't expect this kind of turn around on a normal basis (that is, if I ever decide I have another GG fiction in me.) I was unusually inspired!  
  
I should have mentioned before Chapter 2 that I hate Dean. My apologies to any Dean lovers (are there any left? Kidding!) who may have stumbled upon my story and gotten upset about how I portrayed him. Mea culpa for the lack of warning. However this is my happy little universe and at least I didn't have Dean get hit by a meteor, which I think shows a great deal of restraint on my part.  
  
That said, on with the story. Oh, the poem quoted is 'somewhere i have never traveled' by e.e. cummings.  
  
  
  
Rory  
  
Although she wasn't running towards any particular destination, Rory's legs carry her to the bridge. She has gone there to hide. She feels exposed, exhausted, naked. Her nerves are frayed, her emotions are raw, too close to the surface, not fit for public display. The I'm-totally-fine-and- nothing-is-wrong mask she developed over the past year won't contain these strong new feelings and she has no other mask to wear. She needs to escape the seeking eyes of the town, to be absent when they whisper about her.  
  
Of course, that's only part of it. She has also run to the bridge to feel him. She wanted to run straight into his protective arms, to have him hold her, rock her, stroke her hair, take away the sting of Dean's cruel words. She thinks about his girlfriend and how his arms hold Shane, not her. She wonders abstractly if he ever could have been hers. Her heart tightens when she finally admits that her separation from him is without question her fault. This bridge is as close as she can get to being in his presence. It is all she can expect. It will have to be enough.  
  
'Rory,' her heart whispers.  
  
'Yeah?' Rory answers.  
  
'He has come,' her heart tells her. 'In the shadows, under the trees, near the bridge. . . Jess is here.'  
  
Rory doesn't turn to verify this information with her eyes. She is learning to trust the truth that her heart gives her. Fresh tears spring to her eyes, but this time she doesn't fully understand their source or why she is crying. It is more than she hoped for. It feels like a gift. 'He is here!' Rory thinks, incredulously. 'He is here.'  
  
She considers calling out to him to let him know that his presence has been detected, but she doesn't. 'He'll approach if he wants,' she thinks. 'It is enough that he came.' As the tears slip down her face and escape to freedom, splashing onto her lap, Rory waits for him.  
  
Jess  
  
He knew where to find her, where she would go. He went there, to her. Years of surviving the streets of New York have taught him how to stand beyond the reach of even her peripheral vision, unseen. In this private place, he studies her. He thinks about the scene at the dance marathon. . . the fight, her pain, rage, humiliation. He looks at her and knows that part of her innocence has been lost and his stomach lurches. His heart condemns him for playing a roll in that loss and he feels grief. It's not an emotion he's used to and it courses through him powerfully. He has hurt her. He knows it.  
  
Yet, oddly, he's proud of her. The Rory he met a year ago would not have engaged in so public a display of emotion. Perfect Rory in the perfect town at the perfect school with her perfect grades and her perfect boyfriend doing exactly what was expected of her. All the time. She's been trapped. He knew the first time she watched him work at the diner, the way her eyes followed him, studied him. He wondered why no one else had seen it before. 'They probably didn't want to,' he muses, gazing at her back turned in slight profile. But he knew. Her crystal blue eyes cried out to him. 'She's been drowning,' he thinks, 'for a long time.' He was the thing she needed and he knew it. He had seen it in her eyes.  
  
His memory returning to the dance marathon, he thinks about how she stood up to her domineering boyfriend and reclaimed her life as her own. 'Bravest damn thing I ever saw,' he remembers. He had wanted to stand up and cheer. It was ridiculous, he hadn't cheered about anything since he was three years old. He shook his head, clearing the vision from his mind. 'Besides, she'll pay a huge price for her freedom,' he thinks, his heart contracting for her again. 'She is already paying it.' He knows she has just changed her life for the better but loss of innocence is never an easy thing to see. Never.  
  
'Huh,' he thinks, looking at Rory. He notices the slight change in her posture, and the modulation in her breathing and knows that his presence has been felt. Although he has not made a sound or moved, she has sensed him. He continues observing her from this safe distance while he decides what to do.  
  
Rory and Jess  
  
He walks onto the bridge and sits next to her, not daring to touch her, not yet. He doesn't look at her but instead looks out across the water, following her gaze. She is crying softly, her tears flowing unchecked. He wants badly to comfort her but understands that sometimes, when you try to take away someone's pain, you accidentally drive it like a nail straight into their heart. Unable to bear the thought of hurting her twice in one night, he says nothing.  
  
She is not ready to look at him, so instead she looks at her lap. Curiously, it's wet. She wonders absently if it has started to rain and then she remembers her tears. Her heart is racing yet she is strangely calmed by his closeness. He is the only one in the entire world that she wants to be near at this moment.  
  
Since he has come to her, she decides to speak first. It is a small thing, but it is a gift she can offer him in return for being sought and found.  
  
"I guess you heard all that," Rory says.  
  
"Most of it," Jess admits, his voice soft and gentle.  
  
They both fall silent again.  
  
Long moments pass before Jess says, "The guy's a total asshole, Rory. Yelling at you like that in front of everyone." Shaking his head and wincing at the visual he has just conjured up in his own mind, he continues "He's a complete jerk."  
  
Rory laughs softly, ruefully. "Not really," she concedes, wiping her tear stained cheeks for the first time. "I did that to him, you know. I strung him along, played with his head. I had him tied in knots, pulled taunt like a rubber band. When he snapped, it's no wonder he snapped big." Sniffing and dragging her eyes from her lap she finds the courage to finally look at Jess before she continues. He is still staring across the water, sparing her eye contact, making the words she has to say next easier for her to get out. "The things he said about my feelings for you," she pauses, fresh tears springing new. "It's all true. He was right. . . about everything. . . all that stuff he said. . . is true," she finishes, voice breaking.  
  
Shock rushes through Jess's veins. His pulse pounds in his ears and his vision temporarily blurs as though he has suddenly stood up too fast. Involuntarily, he turns to look at her face, unbelieving, needing to verify that he's heard her correctly. His fierce penetrating gaze is too much for her. She feels utterly vulnerable, scared. She catches a brief glimpse of chocolate brown before she tears her eyes away and stares again at things unseen, lying just below the surface of the water.  
  
Silence falls on them as Jess tries to sort through the tumult of fresh emotions that have just attacked him. He searches her profile as though it holds answers. The moon and ambient light from faraway street lamps reflect silver off of her tear stained cheeks. He feels a thin shiver of need slice through him cleanly. Rory Gilmore has just admitted that she wants him and he cannot find his voice to tell her that he feels the same way.  
  
Misinterpreting his silence, Rory feels her heart begin to break apart. Such intense pain is foreign to her and she has no defense against it as it begins to gnaw and devour. 'He's afraid to hurt me,' she thinks. She realizes that she was wrong when she thought speaking first was the only gift she could give him tonight. Releasing him from the burden of worrying about her feelings - that's another gift she has to offer. As is telling him the whole truth. She knows she owes him at least that.  
  
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice small, barely a whisper.  
  
"For what?" he says, the air returning to his lungs permitting speech.  
  
Choking back a sob she says, "for everything."  
  
Hungry for her eyes, he moves his hand to her chin and gently, tenderly, turns her head towards him. He waits patiently for her to lift her eyes to his. An electric jolt flows through her where his fingers touch her face. Fearfully, she looks up and feels herself start to fall. Azure blue meets hazy brown. Jess catches his breath, a lump forming in his throat. He can't remember ever feeling so lost and so found at the same time.  
  
She speaks first. "I'm sorry for hurting you." Finding courage in his eyes and touch, she knows she can finally say what needs to be said. "I'm sorry I ran from you after I kissed you. I'm sorry I went to Washington without saying goodbye. I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't matter to me, like you were nothing," her voice breaks again.  
  
Unwilling to see what she is sure will be his rejection of her, she pulls her eyes from his and looks down before continuing, "there are so many things I'd do differently if I could. . . .but it's OK. I know it's too late now. I don't expect you to feel the same about me." A vision of Jess kissing Shane in the gym swims before her as Rory says, "Your life is different and you've moved on. Even though it doesn't really matter at this point, it's important to me that you how I really feel about you and how truly sorry I am."  
  
Before he can stop himself, he asks her, "How do you really feel about me?"  
  
He is instantly sorry. 'Oh God,' he thinks panicking, 'It doesn't matter. I'll take her under any terms. If she'll even let me sit in the same room with her without hating me, that will be enough. She could tell me to go to hell and if that's what it takes to make her happy, I swear I'd go.' Too late, these thoughts come to him. His question is already spoken, floating in the air, waiting to be answered. There is no turning back.  
  
Rory catches her breath. Is she strong enough to tell him? She isn't sure. She turns to him, searching his face. She is momentarily confused at what she sees. He looks almost scared, anxious, worried. Something else flits across his face as his eyes scan her. 'Is that hope?' she wonders. 'It can't be. What would he be hopeful about?' A tiny spark ignites within her. Her jaw slackens in disbelief as a new thought fans the tiny flame as it burns brighter. 'He's looking at me like he actually cares about me,' she thinks, amazed. She wonders if she can trust her eyes. 'Help me heart,' she urges.  
  
She locks her eyes onto his and before her head can begin to list all the reasons why she's crazy to think he reciprocates her feelings, her heart propels her forward. Without further hesitation, she says, "Jess, I love you."  
  
The words sail from her lips like a prayer. She feels their weight release from the center of her heart, like a burden, a secret kept that should not have been. Feeling powerful in the truth she has spoken, her stormy soul grows quiet.  
  
The effect of those words on Jess is fierce and immediate. They hit him like an unexpected force and rip through him, no crevice is left untouched, no part of him is unaltered. He feels himself drowning, falling, flying. His eyes shut and he leans forward, putting his hands on her waist and burying his head in her shoulder, in her chest. His breath is ragged. He is a runner who has just crossed the finish line, exhausted and triumphant.  
  
Surprised, Rory reaches out to hold him, the fingers of one hand thread through his hair, the other hand rubs his back. She kisses the top of his head as it's the only part of him her lips have access to.  
  
Still holding tight to her, he pushes onto the bridge until she's laying on her back with him partially on top of her, partially next to her. She feels him crashing and breaking. She senses rather than knows that something solid has turned liquid and is flowing, flowing out of him into her. She wraps her arms around him and holds him tight. She wants him to know she is there, she wants him to feel her as she tries to comfort him. Her arms encircle him and her mind registers the solidity of his muscles, yet, she feels him shake.  
  
He lifts his head from her chest and kisses his way up her neck, urgently. Unprepared and suddenly aware that he is on top of her, she inhales sharply. He knows he is probably frightening her with the intensity of his reaction but he can't control it. His lips land on hers, causing goose bumps to erupt down her arms and back. She gasps and Jess uses the opening in her lips to slide his tongue into her mouth. Rory feels dizzy. Instinctively, she opens her mouth further, granting him more access and he deepens the kiss. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hears Dean's voice saying, 'That's passion. I thought you'd be able to tell the difference.' A small involuntary sound escapes from the back of her throat.  
  
Jess reels when hears Rory's moan, guessing that it's the first noise she's ever made in the heat of passion. 'Because of me,' his mind registers. 'That sound, because I'm touching her.' His arousal lifts. He sinks further into her and moves his lips along her jaw line, capturing her ear lobe in his teeth. Shivers run through Rory. She is unprepared for her reaction to him. She feels herself melt into him, into the bridge. He forces himself to pull back, realizing he's on the verge of losing control. His hands rest just above her shoulders as he raises up to gaze down at her.  
  
His breath catches when he sees her. She is unbelievable, impossibly beautiful. Her eyes are drunk-dizzy, her lips swollen. 'God, I want her,' he thinks. She smiles softly at him as one of her hands reaches up to caress his cheek. He looks at her warily and teasingly says "Should I be worried about that hand?"  
  
Rory looks at him with a confused expression on her face but notices his smirk, remembers the events of the evening, and starts to laugh uncontrollably. She gasps, "Oh my God, I can't believe I slapped him like that."  
  
"That was my all-time favorite Stars Hollow moment," he tells her grinning. "Well, next to this one."  
  
"Nice save," Rory laughs as she pulls him down for another kiss.  
  
Jess kisses her quickly and pulls her into a hug. "You know, that's the part I didn't hear," he says. "What did he say to cause that kind of reaction from you?"  
  
Rory's eyes cloud as she feels the shadow of Dean's lips and breath on her ear, hears his cruel words in her memory. "Maybe one day, I'll tell you, but not tonight," she states flatly. "Trust me, the slap was deserved."  
  
"I don't doubt it a bit. I'm sure I'd have slapped him for far less."  
  
Rory grows quiet as her eyes wander over Jess's face. He leans down to kiss her again, quickly and softly. He lifts himself off of her as she makes a small sound of protest, not wanting to lose the feeling of his warmth and weight. He offers her his hand and she takes it. Gently, he pulls her to her feet.  
  
Closing the distance between them, he envelops her in a hug. They stay like that for long minutes, both lost in the sensation of being close. Rory's heart is beating strongly, loudly. She wonders if he can hear it. Leaning back in his embrace, she smiles at him. She is surprised to see that his face is serious.  
  
"Rory," he begins, "about what you said. . . "  
  
She looks at him questioningly.  
  
"I feel. . ." he struggles, "I've never. . . It's harder for me. . ." he stammers obviously trying to formulate his thoughts. "My mom never even once told me. . . but then you said it so easily. . . I want. . ."  
  
Rory looks at him, his eyes trusting, his face open, his barriers down. She knows what he is trying to tell her and how hard it is for him.  
  
"Shhh. . ." she whispers tenderly. "It's OK. I know. We have plenty of time. The words will come."  
  
Relief flooding him that she understands, he buries his face in her shoulder as she strokes his hair. Lifting his head, he kisses her cheek as he steps away from her. "There is one last thing I need to take care of."  
  
She knows he means Shane. She smiles at him and nods once. He turns to leave but stops and pulls the book he was reading at the dance marathon out of his jacket pocket. He hands it to her saying, "There's a passage in here that reminds me of you. I marked the page."  
  
"I'll read it when I get home," she promises.  
  
Smiling, Jess kisses her one last time, turns and walks off the bridge. Rory watches him leave, her heart humming happily.  
  
"Don't be so smug," she tells her heart.  
  
'Whatever,' her heart says.  
  
Later that night, after finding Lorelei, filling her in on the salient details of the evening, and shedding a few more tears, Rory lies in bed. The book Jess gave her is on her nightstand. She picks it up and turns to the page he marked for her and reads.  
  
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond  
  
any experience,your eyes have their silence:  
  
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,  
  
or which i cannot touch because they are too near  
  
  
  
your slightest look easily will unclose me  
  
though i have closed myself as fingers,  
  
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
  
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose  
  
  
  
or if your wish be to close me,i and  
  
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,  
  
as when the heart of this flower imagines  
  
the snow carefully everywhere descending;  
  
  
  
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals  
  
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture  
  
compels me with the color of its countries,  
  
rendering death and forever with each breathing  
  
  
  
(i do not know what it is about you that closes  
  
and opens; only something in me understands  
  
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)  
  
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands  
  
  
  
Rory feel asleep that night clutching Jess's book in her hand.  
  
  
  
A/N: I sorta feel like this is done. I've rewritten "The Shoot Gilmore, Don't They" to my liking. If ya'll feel differently and think it should continue, just post it in feedback and I'll consider where to go from here. Otherwise, we'll color this done. Thanks for reading!! ( 


	4. Epilogue Back at the Bridge

Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls. As if.  
  
A/N: Thanks to all who offered opinions about whether or not I should continue this story. I'm agreeing with the majority and calling this fic finished. I feel I hit my stride on Chapter 3 and don't want to push my luck! I may try my hand at an entirely new fic (not using an episode as a launching point) sometime soon. In the meantime, this epilogue will tie up various loose ends. To quote Angel Monroe, this epilogue is full of "fluffer nutter peanut butter". Seriously, if it were food, you'd all get cavities. You've been warned.  
  
To everyone who reviewed my story - you honor and humble me by taking the time to share your thoughts. It both helps me improve my creative writing skills and motivates me. I cannot thank you enough. Special duper shout outs to:  
  
Airforcebrat529 - gosh, thanks!!  
  
Someone - I was howling at your feedback!! Girlfriend, if you write up Dean's alien abduction, I swear I'll print it and frame it. Sadly, I am NOT kidding! (Looks like Faith5321 is the 3rd charter member of the 'Dean Should Die' club!)  
  
Jamie - For making me strive to have my head/heart dialog stay out of the realm of cliché. . . . and for suggesting this epilogue.  
  
  
  
  
  
Rory  
  
Stealing a quiet moment of serenity, she has come to the bridge. She needs to gather her thoughts, breath deeply, be peaceful. She sits in her familiar spot and watches the water. She has always been able to feel close to him here. Over the years, that in itself has been a blessing. 'We started right here,' she thinks stroking the wooden planks and remembering an evening long ago when she listened to her heart and chose her own path. A tumultuous night. 'A good night,' she corrects smiling. It was the night she left the safety of Dean for the promise of Jess, left the tyranny of perfection for the haven of real. She has never looked back.  
  
She has followed where her heart has led. The journey has not been easy, but it has been her own. She walked her path and saw wonders, miracles, tragedies. Through it all, she has loved - first a boy, then a man named Jess.  
  
She loved Jess when Dean (who was later abducted by aliens A/N: kidding!) foolishly tried to reconcile with her, when Shane refused to go away quietly, when her mother disapproved, when her friends didn't understand. She loved him across the miles when he moved to California with his father. She loved him as the years passed with only too short moments spent together. She remembers her visits to UCLA, his visits to Yale, tearful goodbyes at airports where she cursed her heart for making her care so much about another human being. She remembers lonely nights, fights, fears, doubts. She thinks of how his touch makes her tremble, makes her burn. She remembers late night talks, holding hands, leaves changing, beaches, mountains, a disastrous camping trip, a Paris café, book stores, a motorcycle, rainy Sundays with the newspaper, rivers of coffee, making love in the ruins of a Scottish castle, tears, laughter. It's a life that she remembers, their life together. Through it all, over distance and time, she has loved him. Her heart told her it was real and she believed.  
  
'He has come,' her heart tells her.  
  
'I knew he would!' her head gloats.  
  
'He always does,' Rory thinks smiling, delighted that her head and heart have made peace at last. She feels happy, light, blessed. One more time, she waits for him.  
  
Jess  
  
Something has called him to the bridge. Seeing the familiar figure sitting on the wooden planks, he realizes it is she. 'And they say true north has a magnetic pull,' he thinks marveling at how he is constantly, unconsciously drawn to wherever she is.  
  
She is more than he ever expected to find, more than he knows he deserves. He smiles and shakes his head, 'Rory Gilmore loves me,' he thinks incredulously. It feels like a miracle. His mind wanders back to his first night in Stars Hollow, walking into her mother's house. He was drawn to the fireplace, to her framed photo on the mantle. He picked it up. Even then she called to him. 'She thinks we started on this bridge,' he muses. He knows his love for her started much earlier.  
  
His mind travels forward in time, to the days when he earned the admiration and trust of her family, her friends. He remembers finding the courage to tell her he loved her and how she wept at his words. He thinks of how his love for her has grown, become liquid, a vast thing. Because of her, he is different. He is better. He thinks of the first time they made love after high school graduation. In spite of his sexual experience, he had been unprepared for the pleasure he would find in her body, her touch. She made him feel complete, clean, forgiven.  
  
His mind recalls how he felt lost without her in the strange newness of California. Days of doubts, jealousies, insecurities unfold in his memory. It wasn't easy for him but he learned to trust in her, believe in her love. He remembers how beautiful she looked at her college graduation, how alive he felt when he moved back to New York, how grateful he was when she moved there too. He remembers the day they moved in together, how she had stood on a sidewalk grate and turned to say something as the rush of wind captured her hair and lifted it until it flowed all around her, a cloud of honey brown. She had looked like a mermaid.  
  
When her job with the New York Times took her all over the world, he supported her, traveled with her when he could. When his mother died, she had held him in her arms like a baby. She was his safe place, his lucky charm, his best friend. When his first novel was rejected by 35 publishers, she told him 36 was his lucky number. She had been right. His eyes mist when he remembers the look on her face when she read the novel's dedication - to her. Her excitement surpassed even his own when his second novel was published, its' dedication also to her. Always her. He knows she is a gift, a precious thing. She taught him how to love, to trust, to forgive, and be forgiven. In the eight years since they graduated from high school, since he left Stars Hollow, he has tried to be worthy of her. He hopes he has succeeded.  
  
Rory and Jess  
  
He walks onto the bridge and sits behind her. His legs straddling either side of her body, he pulls her to him. She leans against his chest, closes her eyes and feels him.  
  
"This is bad luck, you know," Rory says, sighing.  
  
"I like to live on the edge," Jess replies, moving her silky hair to her opposite shoulder so his lips can access her neck. Kissing her, he breathes her in. She smells like summer, like water.  
  
At the touch of his lips, chills run up her spine. His hand moves under her shirt and he feels the creamy skin of her stomach, her breasts. A small whimper escapes from her. He marvels at how, after all this time, she can still arouse such basic desire in him. His hand travels lower, moving down her body.  
  
"Jess. . ." she whispers, her need for him threatening to overpower her.  
  
He longs to satisfy her right then but knows he cannot. He pulls his hand away and wraps his arms tightly around her.  
  
Moving his lips to her ear he whispers, "What are you doing later?"  
  
"I'm busy," she replies, her head falling back giving in to the sensations sweeping through her.  
  
"Doing what?" he presses, moving his lips to the other side of her neck, the cascade of her hair envelops him.  
  
"Actually, I'm getting married," she answers smiling, running her hands along his thighs.  
  
"What a coincidence," he says, his breath quickening at her touch, "me too."  
  
She turns towards him. This time, it is her turn to push him down on the bridge and climb on top. Feeling his erection through her sweat pants, she grins and begins kissing his neck. Slowly her lips travel to his ear, her tongue leaving a wet trail along his neck and jaw. He groans impatiently.  
  
"No kidding?" she responds, enjoying his reaction to her. "Where are you getting married?"  
  
"At the Independence Inn," he informs her as he moves underneath her to recapture her neck with his mouth.  
  
"Me too!" she answers laughing. She moves away from his lips and he lowers his head back to the bridge, gazing at her with hungry eyes. In a fluid movement, she slides down his body, her legs straddling him. He feels so strong, so solid. His hands move to her hips. As she leans down to kiss him, she begins to grind her hips rhythmically against his. "Maybe I'll see you there."  
  
Caught off-guard by her movement, he moans, as his hip move involuntarily in tandem with hers. It is more than he can handle. He grabs her and flips her underneath him, positioning himself lower down her torso, his head even with her breasts. From this position, she has lost access to his most sensitive body part. Breathing heavily, trying to gain control, he smiles triumphantly when her eyes meet his.  
  
"No fair!" she protests.  
  
"Vixen," he laughs. "Keep it up and we'll both miss our weddings."  
  
She laughs, her eyes sparkling.  
  
"I hope your husband-to-be knows he's a very lucky man," he tells her, grinning broadly.  
  
She lifts herself up on her elbows and places a long lingering kiss on his mouth. He returns her kiss tenderly, savoring her taste, the feel of her. "Well, I remind him everyday," she says in mock sincerity.  
  
Jess bursts out laughing. Reveling in the sound of his laugh, the laugh she adores, she grows suddenly serious. She wriggles out from under him and sits in front of him, cross-legged Indian style. Jess watches warily to see what she will do. He is still as her hands capture either side of his face. She leans in closer, making burning eye contact and whispers, "I'm the lucky one."  
  
A lump forms in his throat at her passion and sincerity. "I love you, Rory Gilmore," he says feeling lucky, feeling safe.  
  
"I love you too, Jess Mariano," she answers.  
  
He kisses her as though she is something fragile, breakable like one of her mother's porcelain unicorns. He stands, offering her his hand. She takes it. He lifts her up and captures her lips again. Bringing his hands to the sides of her chin, he moves his lips to her jaw. His lips brush the side of her face, gently, barely touching as he moves them from her jaw to her forehead. Dizzy, she closes her eyes. Kissing his way across her forehead, his lips move like a whisper down the other side of her face. Stepping back from her, his fingers glide from her chin down her neck barely touching her skin. She shivers. His eyes drink in her face, memorizing every detail of how she looks at this moment. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers stepping further away.  
  
She opens her eyes. He is backing away from her. She smiles. She feels like crying, like flying. 'The next time I see him, he'll be in a tux,' she thinks.  
  
'She'll be in white,' he imagines, slowly backing further away from her. 'On her father's arm.'  
  
'Luke will be next to him,' she muses, trying to picture her stepfather without his omnipresent baseball cap. She too begins to back away off the bridge, her eyes remaining glued to his.  
  
'Her mother will be next to her.'  
  
'He'll be so handsome.'  
  
'She'll share my last name,' he marvels.  
  
'The next time I kiss him, it will be as his wife,'' she thinks.  
  
Standing now on opposite side of the bank, the bridge between them, they stop. Smiling broadly, she blows him a kiss. Flashing a white-toothed grin, he turns and sprints away. She turns and suppresses the urge to skip back to her house where her mother and Lane are waiting to help her get ready. Impulsively, she spreads her arms out and twirls on the grass. Her heart is open, expansive, singing.  
  
Hugging herself, she says, 'Thank you,' to her heart.  
  
'Anytime,' her heart answers.  
  
A/N: THE END (for real this time!) I hope you liked it - I'd love to hear what you think in a review. I'll be waiting for the inspiration fairy to hit me over the head so I can start my next GG fic. Later! 


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